Absence of Hope
by mooncroww
Summary: hope is never gone, sometimes it just gets buried under everything else.


I wake when he screams, flinging the covers off and rolling out of bed. My feet lead me past Harry's room, past the bathroom and into the bedroom at the end of the hall. He's crouched in a corner, arms over his face crying like a child. Quietly I kneel next to him and whisper gentle words that I know he can't hear. Slowly the sobbing ebbs and he looks at me with those fear filled hazel eyes.  
  
"Come on now." I say as a shadow falls over us.  
  
"Another nightmare?" Harry asks stooping to help pull our friend to his feet.  
  
"Yeah." I answer.  
  
Ron whimpers as Harry hooks an arm around his waist and leads him back to bed. I stand nervously, ready to help should anything else happen. It wouldn't be the first time he's tried to fight us off, there is a small vial of sedative on the chest of drawers for this reason. The small walk to the bed is uneventful, however, and he climbs beneath the covers without protest. I turn to leave as Harry pulls the blankets back up and tucks them around Ron's shoulders.   
  
"Wait." He says and grabs Harry's arm.  
  
I look at both of them strangely and then smile just a little.  
  
"I'll stay with him. You go back to bed." Harry whispers.  
  
I wait until they are settled in with Ron pressing his forehead to the other man's shoulder, still trembling a little from his previous fright. I take a deep breath and go back to my bed, the screams still echoing within me, vibrating off my bones and through my brain.  
  
  
  
Morning comes early and I find myself curled tightly at the foot of the bed, shivering with cold. As I squint in the mild daylight my door opens and Harry leans against frame, watching as I disentangle myself from the sheet.  
  
"Morning." He says.  
  
"Yes." I answer standing and stretching a little.   
  
"You want to make breakfast? I'll get him dressed."   
  
I nod and move past him in the doorway, gently touching his shoulder as I go.   
  
From the kitchen I can hear him talking in that same calm voice he always uses.  
  
"That's right, one leg at a time. Now hold still while I get your shoes. No, no, just shoes. See?"   
  
There is no answer, not that I expected one. For some reason I want to cry, but I don't. Instead I search the cupboards for something I can make. Again we need groceries, I'll have to go out while Harry is at work. I settle on cereal and begin putting out bowls and spoons.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" Harry asks leading Ron in and setting him in a chair.  
  
"No."  
  
I pour cereal into the bowl and feel a light touch on my back.   
  
"Do you want me to have someone make you up a potion?" He asks very quietly.  
  
"I can't hear him then." I answer and brush a lock of hair from Ron's eyes as he smiles blankly up at me.  
  
"You need rest. Just one night, I can take care of him."   
  
"No."  
  
We eat in silence, taking turns helping Ron bring the spoon to his mouth. When breakfast is finished I lead him into the living room while Harry cleans up the dishes.   
  
"Mione, can you come here?"   
  
Reluctantly I go back to the kitchen.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Last night, I think…" Harry pauses and bites his lip.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Last night I think he said my name."  
  
I feel sick to my stomach and grab onto the table.  
  
"When?"  
  
"Before he went to sleep. I think he said my name."  
  
"You must have imagined it." I reply.  
  
Hurt fills those green eyes and I want to take back what I said.   
  
"I didn't."   
  
The sick feeling remains and I feel tears hiding just behind my eyelids.   
  
"He's gone Harry. Can't you just accept that?" I cry trying hard not to vomit.  
  
"Maybe you can just let him go, but I can't."  
  
"It's been a year. They said if he were going to show improvement it would have been months ago. He's not getting better and he's not coming back."   
  
His jaw tightened and he glared at me angrily.  
  
"I know what I heard."  
  
This time I can't stop myself and run to the bathroom, barely making it in time. Emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet I find I want desperately to believe Harry. I need to believe him. Cleaning myself up is easy enough, but to stop the shaking is impossible.   
  
"Here." I turn and Harry gently wipes my mouth with a wash cloth, then kisses my forehead.  
  
"Where is he?" I ask trying to stand.  
  
"In the living room. He's fine."  
  
I nod and swallow hard, "Sorry."  
  
"No. I shouldn't have upset you."  
  
For a long moment he holds me close, pressing his cheek to my forehead. I want to kiss him, I want to hit him, I want to run screaming from the house, I want my husband back.   
  
"You need to go to work." I whisper.  
  
"Yes. Come on."   
  
We get to our feet and make our way to the living room hand in hand. Ron is sitting in the same chair looking around him with a simple smile that he turns on us when we enter. I smile back in spite of myself.  
  
"Okay Ron, I'm going to work. You take care." Harry says hugging his friend.  
  
"You are coming back?" I ask as he readies to apparate, I always ask this, fearing he may never return.  
  
"I promise."   
  
After dinner is finished we both put Ron to bed, tucking him in and whispering loving words. As I watch his face relax with sleep I remember how things used to be, before the battle and the spell. I remember his voice, and his rolling laughter. My chest hurts with unshed tears and I hurry to my room.  
  
It is no surprise when Harry crawls into bed beside me an hour later, leaving trails of warm kisses down my spine. His hands know their path well, finding the right places to touch, burning their way through my flesh. I respond quickly with kisses of my own pressed feverishly to his lips. I hear him moan my name as I push him onto his back and nip at his ear. I know my way as well.  
  
This is not an act of love, nor is it just sex. Somehow it goes beyond that. It is all the tears and the pain and sorrow finding an exit. Every sigh and whimper, every long kiss, every drop of sweat is a long repressed wail of sadness.   
  
I graze my fingers over his ribs and he quickens his pace, panting my name over and over against my shoulder. Tears run down my face as I gasp and fall over the edge, he follows soon after collapsing atop me. We lay like that for a time then he moves to curl against me.  
  
"Do you ever feel…" He stops and wipes a tear from my cheek.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Do you ever feel like this is wrong?"  
  
"Sometimes." I say fingering my wedding band.  
  
"Then why do we keep doing it?"  
  
I look at him in the dark and press a kiss his face, he tastes of sweat and tears, "Because I need you."  
  
There is silence again.  
  
"Do you blame me?" He asks, but I am expecting it.   
  
"No."  
  
"How can you not?"  
  
"You couldn't stop him. He jumped of his own free will. There was no way you could know what the spell would do to him."  
  
"He shouldn't have done it." There is a finality in this statement.  
  
"No. But then we'd all be dead." I answer.  
  
"It should have been me."  
  
"Yes." I agree.  
  
"I'm going back to my room." He says and gets to his feet.  
  
"You can stay." I offer, knowing he won't.  
  
"No."  
  
I wake when he screams and again race down the hall to his bedroom. Harry joins me and we help him back to bed. Tonight I stay with him, finding strange comfort in his child like clinging. Just before he drifts off to sleep again I hear him whisper, "Hermione."  
  
Perhaps Harry is right, perhaps there is hope. 


End file.
